


Triggers

by Awryen



Series: OTP: Moonlighting [5]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 11:11:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17364839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awryen/pseuds/Awryen
Summary: Gault learns a bit about Mry'da's past.





	Triggers

**Author's Note:**

> Most of these are gonna be in order. But I might start posting them at odd spots. Especially when I decide to add anything new. *shrug*

Mry'da stalked out of the nobleman's safe house, barely containing her fury. She stuffed the data stick into her pouch, gritting her teeth so hard they hurt.

"Hey!!"

She felt a hand grip her at the crook of her arm. Turning in a huff, she glared at Gault.

"What the _hell_ was that?"

Shaking his hand off her arm angrily, Mry'da continued on her way to the speeder. The Devaronian frowned and continued after her. Before she could reach the speeder he reached for her shoulder.

"What?!" she said, spinning around and catching his wrist in her fist.

Pointing back behind him, he angrily growled, "That!! Are you _trying_ to sabotage yourself?! Cause that could very well _end_ whatever little bit of progress we've made here."

"What do you care? We got the information, didn't we?" she huffed, glaring at him.

"Only because he was a _coward._ You were _lucky_. There are some nobles here who have way more balls than that guy and would have _clapped you in irons_ ," he retorted, crossing his arms.

"So, once again, _what was that?_ " Gault demanded.

Mry'da turned away from him and readied the speeder bike for takeoff. But instead of climbing on and leaving, she just bore a hole through the seat with her heated glare. Gault waited patiently, anger still simmering underneath. She was his meal ticket!! If she fucked things up here, it could be really bad for them, for him.

"If you must know..." she began, and then hesitated. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "If you must know...I despise those who look down on others because of birth and or circumstance. I can deal with the racism to a degree, but to go after someone who's been beaten down, especially financially, who only ever did the best they could to survive...I feel such a deep well of rage..."

Gault wasn't exactly impressed, so he expressed as much.

"Then you picked a _very funny_ profession, sweetheart. Bounty hunters are only respected enough due their prowess on the battle field. Otherwise? We're the _lowes_ t life forms in the galaxy who do the secret dirty work of those in higher power."

Mry'da growled and turned to glare at him again.

"I _know_ that. And I expect that from the Empire. But when you're a child growing up in the slums of a world that is considered a bastion of hope and liberty...and being a Chiss at that? I grew to hate anyone in any sort of aristocracy or democratic hierarchy."

Mry'da turned away from him and climbed on the bike. Frowning, he felt a slight stab of pain for the younger woman. But he knew she needed to get this under control if she were to finish this. About to remind her of that again, he stopped as he noticed a shift in her mood.

She was facing away from him, waiting for him to get on the bike behind her when her face fell. If he didn't know any better, he'd have thought she was about to start crying.

"...Mry'da...why does this bother you so much?" he asked quietly, stepping up to the bike and swinging his leg over the seat, settling in behind her.

He felt her tense as he lightly wrapped his arms about her waist as she revved up the engine.

"...I'll tell you later," she said, her voice gruff. He saw her wipe at her face before she sighed loudly and hit the gas. At that point, as they started to zip away from the safe house and the remaining Thul enemies, he stayed quiet.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few hours had passed after they'd stopped by the Girard family home to give the baron the second half of the code. They'd had a run in with the man's uncle, who sneered at them as though they were ants. And Gault could feel the rage burning off his boss. Once they got the go ahead the find the stashed information at the Alde Museum, they'd made their way to the Thul Cantina, to rest up for the night.

Mry'da had commissioned two rooms and then ordered a stout bottle of Alderaanian ale to be sent to her room. She had departed after that, not once glancing back at the Devaronian.

Gault sat for a while downstairs, just watching the various patrons as they came and went.

".... _why_ would they hire such a _disgusting_ alien? I know the Chiss work with the Empire..."

"...so many _riff-raff_ in our fair city. What is the galaxy coming to?..."

"...do you think that fellow will steal us blind?..."

The last comment pissed him off. Slamming back his own drink, Gault threw some credits to the table top and went up stairs.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Before making his way to his own room, Gault knocked softly on his boss's door. He was surprised when it opened fairly quickly.

"Hey...I know this is...well, awkward, but do you want some company?"

Mry'da studied him, trying to discern if he was pulling her leg or not. Then she shrugged and let him in.

Offering him a glass of the ale, she sat down on her bed and propped up against the head bored, idly swirling the drink in her hands.

Deciding to take the plunge, the Devaronian asked, "So...why does this bother you much? You mentioned growing up on, I'm assuming, Coruscant. I thought you were from the Ascendancy?"

She stayed quite for a bit, mulling over whether to tell him or not, but finally decided why the hell not?

"...I myself am not. I was born on Coruscant. My parents...they were from the Ascendancy."

He'd figured by this point that her parents were gone, but he asked anyway, "Were?"

"They died in a crossfire from a gang war," she said, her voice soft. "Living in a part of the Undercity of Coruscant...well, things were bad."

Downing her ale, she refilled her glass and sat back, finally meeting his eyes.

"Turns out...even if they were anti-Imperial bullshit, being Chiss made them hated in the Republic. My people, those that came to the Empire, were very like minded. Many of the Republic's ideals were antithetic to their own, so my parents were outliers."

Here she frowned, glaring back down at her drink. Finally, she said, "My parents had hoped that the Republic would accept them, as it was much "safer" than the Empire or the more Neutral spaces in the Mid and Outer-Rim territories." Here, she glared at the amber liquid in her glass before she continued on. "Hmph...Nothing helped them. Even offering some intel on the Ascendancy and Imperial partnership didn't save them from being ostracized so horribly that they couldn't find work in the more...respectable parts of the planet."

"In my first year, they had to run. And they ran to the Underbelly. There they tried to eke out a modest living, using their combined skills in communication, information gathering, and tech. And it worked, for a while...but the gangs sprang up in their part of the Underbelly. And they were targeted for specific tasks."

Frowning so hard, her face turned a bit purple before she finally screwed her eyes shut, a few tears falling down her cheeks. Gault felt his gut clench. Her pain was palpable and even he could feel how it hurt her so.

"When I was seven years-old, that's when it happened. Two of the gangs blew up and started a fire fight around their shop. And they got caught in it. I...wasn't home...I'd been on a small courier run for a woman who was a smuggler, because I was small, quick, and smart...I found them later that night."

The air grew thick and uncomfortable. They sat for a time, mulling over their thoughts. Mry'da was trying to compose herself and Gault was dredging up old regrets of his own...

Sniffling, she finally spoke back up, "I started just surviving after that. An old man took me in as his ward and taught me everything he knew about certain kinds of weaponry and how to wield them. My payment was to cook two meals a day and clean twice a week."

Gault focused in on that and asked a guarded question, "He...never expected anything else...did he?"

Snapping her head up, Mry'da looked at him incredulously.

"No!! No, he didn't. Being his ward actually protected me from things like that. And he was one of only two good people I met when I was on my own..."

He sighed in relief. He hated those kinds of people, had shot a fair few in his thirty years as a career criminal. That kind of brutality and intimidation he found tasteless, disgusting, and ultimately useless, as those abused like that ended up striking back, and _hard_. But for some reason, he was especially glad she wasn't a victim of that. He chose not to examine why that was.

"Who was the other guy?"

She smiled, for the first time since she came face-to-face with that terrible nobleman.

"He was a Devaronian, like you. And what he did changed my life forever."

Her voice had gone soft here and she looked at him dead on again.

"Some gangster was pissed at me for stealing things from him and was even more pissed that he couldn't actually pin things on me. I was that good, by the way," she preened. "So, he hired this guy to track me down, catch me in the process of a theft, and capture me for him. Instead...he challenged me. Told me to go and steal a very valuable shipment that was meant for one of the head Hutt clans."

Mry'da smirked.

"I succeeded. When he went back to the gangster, he made up some story about me dying and, even though the reward was less since he didn't have anything to show for, he took that and gave it to me. He also gifted me my first good pair of blasters."

Mry'da paused and looked at Gault, perplexed. The man himself was looking at her as though he'd just seen a ghost.

"...what was this guy's name?"

Quirking a brow in confusion, Mry'da answered, "He only ever called himself Mr. Lok. _Why?_ Did you know him?"

Gault was now staring at her owlishly. Then he grinned and gave her a look of reproach.

" _Mry'da_...think for a second. Before this arrangement, what was my surname? Hmm?"

Frowning again, she answered slowly, "Lok...ai...?"

Her eyes widened. Mr. Lok. Lokai. A roughly thirty-some odd year old Devaronian male who helped her, which, now that she thought about it, had a cheeky, sarcastic sense of humor...

"....that was YOU?"

"Surprising, isn't it? I knew that little scrap of a kid was gonna have a lot of potential someday," Gault said, beaming at her. Then she frowned.

"...if you thought that...then why didn't you take me with you? I could have learned so much from you."

"My partner wasn't fond of kids. And the life we led was way more dangerous than a kid your age could have handled. Not to mention...I...wasn't exactly looking to take care of a kid at that point," he said, shrugging.

"...does...this change how you see me?" she asked, suddenly nervous and she really wasn't sure why.

He looked at her, confused, "Why would it? I didn't know you as you grew up. I'm only just now getting to know you as a rather successful Bounty Hunter. That kid is long gone, boss. I'm just...glad you survived over the years. Even if you did become a giant _pain_ in my ass."

Here, Mry'da just flipped him off and stuck her tongue out at him, earning a chuckle for her trouble. Then Gault turned serious.

"I'm sorry. For everything you lost. And if you feel yourself getting angry again over those words...just let me talk. Afterwards...shoot to your heart's content. And then after that, feel free to vent. Rant, scream, just... _don't_ hit my pretty face, ok?"

Mry'da snorted at that, but he saw a small smile peak through and she nodded.

"'Night boss. Need to rest up if we wanna go steal some precious… _priceless_ artifacts," he said, grinning that devilish grin of his.

"Sure thing, Red. Night."


End file.
